


The Girl on the Phone

by sunkelles



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunk Dialing, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 08:24:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3970852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkelles/pseuds/sunkelles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa's a little drunk and tries to call her ex. She ends up calling Mya instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Girl on the Phone

**Author's Note:**

> Modern AU Mya works at a a ski resort. You can wrest this head-canon from my cold, dead hands. 
> 
> Sansa/Mya doesn't get nearly enough love.

It’s well past one o’clock and Mya’s lying on her bed, trying to will herself to sleep. Her pure white ceiling isn’t any more interesting than it was over an hour ago, but she keeps starring at it. She doesn’t want to try to watch a movie or something and not be able to go to sleep.

 

Then, the silence is broken by the loud, annoying chiming of Mya’s phone. She groans as she rolls over to grab it off her night stand. She doesn’t recognize the number, but it’s a local area code and she decides to pick it up anyways. She likes playing phone call roulette sometimes. It keeps her life more interesting.

 

“Hello,” she says, as she holds her aging, black flip phone up to her ear.

“Margaery?” a girl asks, or rather slurs on the opposite end of the phone.

“Sorry, no Margaery here,” she replies, “this is Mya Stone.”

“Oh god,” the girl says in an embarrassed tone, “I am _so_ sorry.”

“No harm done,” Mya says, “people dial the wrong number sometimes.”

“This isn’t even my phone,” the girl says. The slight slur and the oversharing lead Mya to believe that the girl is at the very least tipsy. Maybe it’s wrong of her to ask questions of someone who’s likely to give her answers, but she’s curious and she’s awake. Talking to this girl is certainly more interesting than staring at her ceiling.

“Then whose phone is it?” she asks.

“My brother’s,” she says, “I guess he had you in his contacts beside Margaery.” She avoids the obvious question (who is this Margaery?) and skips to a more interesting one.

“Why were you using your brother’s phone?” she asks with a hint of humor.

“I dunno,” Sansa says, “he said that he’d be dd for my Jeyne and I, but Jeyne wouldn’t let me bring my phone. She was afraid I’d try to call my ex.” The way that Sansa says this, guilty and embarrassed at the same time, lets her know everything that she needs to know about this Margaery girl. Margaery is her ex, and Sansa was about to drunk dial her.

“Why were you trying to call your ex?” Mya asks because she doesn’t have a fucking filter and it’s one o’clock in the morning and she’s overly invested in the life of the girl with the cute voice.

“I thought we could try to work things out,” she says, “I guess everything seems possible when you’ve been drinking.” Mya laughs at that.

“What’s so funny?” the girl on the other end of the line demands.

“I just know what you’re talking about,” she says, “one time, I tried to climb a mountain I’d never summited before when I was totally plastered. Woke up in a puddle of vomit with a broken ankle at the top.” She summited it, but she’s always been too afraid to get plastered again after that.

The other girl laughs and it’s a soothing, melodic sound. Mya doesn’t want to admit that she could get used to it.

“You know,” the girl half slurs, “I’m kinda glad that I got you instead.” Mya’s heart does an unwelcome somersault.

_She’s drunk,_ she reminds herself, while another voice tells her, _she’s gay._

“Marg dumped me for an internship with a Congressman,” she says, “and I just wanted to try to call her, try to win her back.”

“If someone choses a job over you,” Mya says, “you’ll always be second choice.” She’s had tons of partners who have chosen various things over her, but she knows that being second choice is a shitty feeling. It’s also one that Sansa shouldn’t ignore.

The girl pauses before she says, “God, I’m glad that I didn’t end up calling her.” Secretly, Mya’s glad too. She’s glad that the other girl didn’t end up doing something she regretted, but she’s even more glad that she got to listen to her pretty voice.

“You’re really nice,” the girl says, “do you wanna get coffee sometime?” There’s still a light slur to her words, but she sounds sincere. A half excited, half panicked wave of emotions sweeps over her.

“I don’t even know your name,” Mya says. She’s a bit of a master at one night stands, but she has no experience with anything like this. She’s never had a drive by date or much of a date at all, really. She thinks that she might like this girl and she doesn’t want to fuck it up.

“Oh god,” the girl says, a wave of embarrassment flooding over her again, "My name’s Sansa. Sansa Stark.” Mya thinks that she recognizes the name from somewhere, but she isn’t sure why. She doesn’t feel like she should ask.

“I’d like that, Sansa,” she says, her voice going gravely with disappointment. She would like that, would like to go on a date with this Sansa a lot more than she’d care to admit. But Sansa is still fairly drunk and might not remember this in the morning, and even if she did, Mya wouldn’t hold her to drunken promises.

“It’s a date,” the girl says with a slurred, teasing lilt. Mya hangs up the phone, because she thinks that if she doesn’t, she’ll say something dangerously flirty and longing and maybe a bit emotional.

 

Mya doesn’t like emotions. She likes mountains and snow a lot more than she likes most people. She holds the phone in her hands a moment longer, but turns it quickly off. She needs to get Sansa out of her mind.

 

She played phone call roulette, and Mya isn’t sure whether she won or lost tonight. She closes her eyes and tries to will herself to sleep.

 

It doesn’t work any better than it did the first time.

* * *

 

 

 

Mya doesn’t text Sansa the next day, because no matter how cute she sounded on the phone, she doesn’t want to pressure anyone into sticking to promises that they made while drunk. She goes to work early in the morning and helps customers find skis that fit them to rent and adjust equipment and tries not to think about the girl on the other end of the line.

 

Around six o’clock that evening when Mya has put away the remainder of the customers’ skis, she sees a text from a number that she doesn’t recognize.

 

“Are you still down for coffee? ….” Judging by the dots after the text, the sender tried and failed to attach some sort of emoji to their text, not knowing that Mya has a phone that predates the Stone Age. A flutter of warmth passes over her that Mya knows isn’t completely from the heater.

_Sansa texted her._ Not only did Sansa remember their conversation, but Sansa liked her enough to follow through with her offer for a coffee date.

 

Mya is actually a little ashamed of the butterflies that take flight in her stomach.

 

“Yes,” She texts back, “definitely. How about some time Friday morning?”

“It’s a date!! …” the girl texts back, presumably with some cutesy emoji that Mya would find annoying if it were coming from anyone else.

 

Mya clutches her phone a little bit tighter, and tries to remind herself that she’s an adult, not a first grader with a crush.

 

It doesn’t work, and her heart flutters even more as she looks back at the text. She’s not even sure that she minds.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Mya, Satin and Gendry formed a band in high school called "The Dirty Bastards" and they kept trying to get Jon to join and ended up becoming friends, though Jon never joined. 
> 
> That's my head-canon for why Jon has Mya's number and I'm sticking to it.


End file.
